Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
“You didn’t.” I clasp his wrists. “We’ll figure this out. And if Panchek agrees to the exemption, I have a few things I need to catch you up on.”
He nods. “I’ll meet you in your room—”
The door opens, and I drop my hands, but Xaden doesn’t move an inch.
“Ah, Professor Riorson,” Aetos says from the doorway. “Kaori mentioned you might be in here, so I thought I’d handle the awkward business of you inevitably asking for an exemption to the Code of Conduct so you don’t embarrass yourself in front of Colonel Panchek.”
My stomach dips. I don’t need Melgren’s signet to know this battle isn’t going to go our way.
“General Aetos.” Xaden’s hands slide from my cheeks in a slow caress, and then he turns to face the commander. “I’m formally requesting an exemption in regard to Article Eight, Section One, on the grounds that this is a previously existing relationship and the post is temporary.”
“Denied,” Aetos responds without sparing a second. “I’ll obey Melgren’s order and give you the position, even though I think there are riders better suited for it, but make no mistake, Riorson, I don’t want you here. Pardon or no pardon, title or not, I won’t forget that you murdered the vice commandant in cold blood a few short months ago and ripped this institution apart. Your attachment to Cadet Sorrengail gives me the perfect excuse to kick you off my campus, and I will joyfully take it should you break the Code of Conduct, Professor. It may be General Melgren’s army, but it’s my school. Do you understand?”
Gods, I fucking hate him.
“That you’re an asshole? Absolutely.” Xaden holds up his finger. “And insulting you isn’t against the Code of Conduct. I checked.”
Aetos flushes scarlet and snaps a glare in my direction. “Farewells are over. Get to class, cadet.”
“Nothing changes. We just do what we’re best at,” Xaden says.
“Steal half the quadrant’s riot and run for Aretia?” I slide off the desk, anger stirring my power to a simmer.
“No, smart-ass. Sneak around. At least for now.”
“For now,” I agree as General Aetos clears the doorway just in time for me to pass through. “Just so you know who to hate,” I say over my shoulder once I’m in the hall, “Xaden didn’t kill Varrish. I did.”
Aetos stiffens and his eyes bulge as Dain steps out of the shadowy archway directly across the hall.
“Come on, Violet. I’ll walk you to class.” Dain looks at his father like the man has abandoned his dragon to die on the battlefield.
We walk silently until we reach the stairwell.
“The blame isn’t solely yours. You struck the final blow, but we both know I killed Varrish,” Dain says quietly as we descend to the third floor. “You could have told him, maybe used the information to help you get that exemption.”
“And how would that help you?”
“Oh, I’m beyond help when it comes to my father.” He huffs out a miserable laugh. “And my father is clearly just…beyond help in general.”
“Dain,” I whisper, hating that he looks like how I felt about my mother last year.
“He’ll be in Calldyr next weekend.” Dain nods as if making a choice. “We’ll get your father’s research then.”
It feels like anything but a victory.
• • •
The next Monday, I contemplate slamming my head against the twelve-person table that fills what Mom had called the “planning chamber” on the second floor of the administration building. It would probably be a better use of my time than listening to Captain Grady and Lieutenant—shit, I’ve already forgotten his name—argue about possible locations to search in front of the map of the Continent that hangs between the two windows.
My favorite part of the map? The hand-drawn, shapeless blobs that are supposed to represent the isle kingdoms to the south and east. It’s taken me exactly three minutes of this “meeting” to decide that no one knows what the fuck we’re doing.
Jesinia has rolled her eyes twice from the left end of the table, where she sits with a stack of books, quill, and parchment, keeping record of the meeting and who’s now officially been chosen for the mission.
“Please tell me you’re almost here,” I say to Xaden as the shadowy bond between us strengthens with proximity.
“Climbing the stairs,” he replies.
“Northward is obviously the answer.” Grady signs simultaneously as he speaks, just as everyone has since the beginning of the meeting, then scratches a beard that isn’t as neatly trimmed as he usually keeps it.
“Yes, we should absolutely venture into undiscovered territory,” Captain Anna Winshire mutters sarcastically in the seat to my right. She’s a talkative infantry captain with strawberry-blond hair, quick brown eyes, and serrated blades strapped to both her shoulders, but other than the myriad of ribboned awards for valor sewn onto her uniform, I can’t figure out why she’s been chosen for the squad.